


Stalking isn't Creepy

by AlwaysFullyDressed, VioletElder



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: I Don't Even Know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26383792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysFullyDressed/pseuds/AlwaysFullyDressed, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletElder/pseuds/VioletElder
Summary: What's a bit of stalking between friends if it's done for a good cause? More of a kind gesture, taking an interest really...certainly not creepy.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	1. Not Done With Him Yet

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning I have no idea where this story shall go or what it will entail.  
> Hold on to your seats folks, I'm dragging you onto a ride with us!

As the months passed from that first whimsical day to join the ~~Happy~~ Hazbin Hotel and countless moments had both bonded and estranged the staff from one another in turn Alastor could say two things with finality.

He never regretted that decision. It had been an upheaval of his afterlife, his boredom, and most of all his privacy. But he cherished these insane folks.

And he had never figured out Angel Dust.

Sometimes in quiet hours at the bar with Husk that first impression rose in memory, the subsequent attempts at his favor and long chats that eventually convinced the spider it was no personal slight when Alastor refused. Even if Angel Dust was still crass and flirty it had fallen into a teasing camaraderie they both understood.

It was just...why? Why had it even been a thought?

He was infamous as a nasty experience, a veritable boogeyman and delinquent in Hell no level of manners or charisma could cover. Every time he looked in the mirror, which was only as often as needed to ensure his presentation was immaculate, he was stricken by how _corpse_ like Hell made him.

All sharp edges and claws, an unseemly wraith with mad eyes and sallow skin. No matter how dissociated he felt from this simple form, how much he covered scars and boney angles, all he saw was a vagrant psychopath with a glowing rotten grin and an air that screamed _run_...

And the monster he truly was watching from behind his eyes, ever waiting for his decorum to fail for a chance to rend meat into bloody memory.

So why would Angel Dust even joke about touching him? A royal class, waiting-list harlot who could rub elbows with Lucifer himself with only a call.

And why did _he_ enjoy the company of a soul that for all logical accounts should have repulsed every fiber of his being? Alastor wasn't one to compromise himself, ever, but more than once he'd found himself choosing to be understanding. Forgiving. 

When Angel sat too close smelling of suitors and drugs. When he was loud enough to be heard outside his room or drug uncouth and _louder_ friends into the Hotel for 'Girl's Night'. Even when the spider got drunk and fell into depressive whining about work in far too much detail.

Alastor forgave it. Made excuses for why it wasn't Angel's fault and chose to push it aside and continue their friendship. 

It hadn't even occurred to him how much he did so until he'd been listening to the Hotel, idling in a chair with a book he wasn't reading and a whiskey he'd barely touched as his mind roved the air waves. Manners demanded he not invade the private rooms of the staff - guests were a matter of security - but Charlie's office was fair play.

Listening to Vagatha give a pointed, and worse, _convincing_ argument about Angel's failure to meet their goals drew the demon's full focus and upset. 

Over an hour the women debated, near argued, and all about how Angel should be told he was no longer a patient. That he was 'released'. That treatment was doing him no good and they would concede he might not be ready for reaching redemption.

Nothing was said about banishing Angel, not even hinted. In fact the fiery woman had several ideas about giving Angel more staff like responsibilities or use but Alastor knew Angel would only hear one thing: Get Out. You Failed.

The spider may have been several mysteries wrapped in confusion to the red demon but while the girls saw only his fluctuating moods and high energy Alastor clearly read his abuse and need to belong. Stripped of reason to stay surely he would bolt back to the afterlife that ruined him, or into a Hell that would try. 

Why did he care? Why was he tossing his book aside and marching to that office with a radial burn in his eyes and honest fury in his chest when he heard Charlie agree it 'may be for the best'. And why was he slamming the door open, uncaring at their scared startlement when his mouth started off unheard in the static raging in his mind as he dissociated from the lecture he gave them about how they were _not_ releasing Angel Dust without his express permission. Which he _was not granting_.

Not until he knew what made Angel tick. Until he was bored and tired of the lanky pain in the backside. Then, and only when _he_ said so, could Angel leave.

He didn't stop to study the scared and confused looks they gave him or answer the half spoken questions aimed at his back. Turning to storm into the depths of the Hotel he tried not to think too hard about what a scene he'd just made on the behalf of a friend he didn't know he could truly call friend over a heartbreak that hadn't even happened yet. 

But he wouldn't sit there and be silent when they spoke so cavalier of something he knew would devastate Angel.

Now he just needed to figure out _why_.

And do it somehow without just asking Angel because it was very obvious by now he had an amazing facade.

Pausing mid step Alastor caught the gesture of his shadow, giving it his full attention as an idea sparked between them and fueled a growing smile. That could actually work. Perfect!

Parting ways the demon retreated further into the hotel, seeking silence to ruminate on his thoughts while his shade flickered off to find the spider discreetly. What was a little friendly stalking between friends, hm?


	2. A Day In The Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So we get a peek into what our spider has been up to. Being a porn star is glamorous.

Angel Dust laid a hand on one narrow hip, waiting for the waste of flesh in the car to make a decision.  
“C’mon, babe, it ain’t that difficult. D’ya want what ya see, or don’t cha? I gotta keep movin’ if ya ain’t buyin.” It came out a little sharper than he had meant to, but he really was on a time limit here. Vaggie had made herself abundantly clear, he had to be in before curfew...or else...he didn’t really want to know exactly what “or else” was, but given the last few weeks he was afraid that “or else” was gonna sound a lot like eviction. 

It wasn’t that he had nowhere else to go, because he could always go back to Valentino, back to the studio, back to the squalid, tiny apartment that had been “his” before this whole hotel business began. Of course, that would entail giving up so much more than just losing his privacy, his independence. He would lose the right to decide when he had enough for a day, he would lose the sense of safety staying at the hotel brought him, where there was no chance that Vee could turn up at literally any time of night demanding “things” from Angel. Damn sure wouldn’t be able to have his much needed girl time with his best bitch, which lately had been a necessity after the days Val had given him. Being on the pimps bad side definitely had its downside, and if he couldn’t get his earnings back into the black, he wouldn’t be out of hot water any time soon. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by the boar in the car he was leaning on. Looked like he might just make his quota tonight, he thought as he opened the door and climbed into the back seat of the filthy sedan. Not luxury accomodations, he thought as he found his way into the lap of the hog who had previously been behind the steering wheel. Honestly, he’d had worse, been in worse places. Laying his long arms around the shoulders of the swine, he leaned in to let the pig bury his face in Angel’s generous chest fluff. He rolled his eyes at the same tired lines he had heard a million times before. Anybody that said being a body for hire was a thrill had obviously never worked as one. Finishing up about a half hour later, Angel collected the money and started towards the studio, his earnings tucked safely into his inside pocket, the pocket that contained one of his third arms. No way was he taking the chance of getting pickpocketed. That last job had left feeling as if he needed a shower, both inside and out. It was worth it, though. He now had enough to make his weekly payment to Valentino. 

He hadn’t walked far when he heard the sound of a familiar vehicle behind him. Angel Dust didn’t need to turn around to know the sound of that gaudy-ass limo. His suspicion was confirmed as that horn played out “Let’s Get It On” when the car pulled up beside him, a pair of carmine eyes glowing from the backseat as that cloying sweet haze drifted up to Angel. The door swung gently open in welcome, ironically like a spider inviting in the fly. 

“Angie. Just who I’m lookin for. C’mon inside with Daddy.” 

Angel flashed a grin at the pimp as he willed himself to step inside of the car, pulling the money from its secret hiding place and handing it off as he made his way to the backseat, hoping that at least it might be short visit and not an “extended meeting” 

“Thanks for savin’ me tha walk, Daddy. I got tha payment for this week right here an’ was on my way to ya.” He willed the tremble in his legs to not give him away. This could go well or it could go down in a flaming crash and burn. 

The giant pimp stopped counting long enough to take an extended look at the arachnid and size up the words spoken. “Of course, sweet cheeks. Nothin’ I wouldn’t do for my best star, hmmm?” He pulled the spider towards him, laying a sickly sweet kiss on his lips, not caring to keep it chaste, nor neat. He wasn’t in the mood for either. Once he had finished counting, noting that it was the exact amount due, he slid the wad of bills into his deep coat pocket, then continued with his smoking and looking over the fine specimen next to him. 

With his two right arms he pulled the fluffy white and pink body into his lap, settling his boy right where he preferred him, his back leaning against Valentino’s left side. He could tell that the spider was a bit off-balance, not certain what the pimp’s intentions were. To be honest, until he had found out that Angel had actually been doing his fucking job for once, he wasn’t sure what the evening would hold for the both of them, but as it was, he might just be inclined to take the star off of street duty for a bit, especially since the next week looked to be a busy one in studio. Valentino knew that he would make a lot more capital using Angel Dust on film, but he also knew that the most effective way to reign in that smart ass attitude and cocky mouth of Angel’s (cocky mouth--hah!) was to put his ass out on the street for a week or two, outside of the nice neighborhoods that the spider preferred. Let him be used by the degenerates, the lowest. That was the best way to get the spider’s ass back in line. Let him know that even his ass was replaceable. 

“Daddy’s pleased with ya, baby. How about we get ya cleaned up and offa these streets? Fuckin’ disgusting out here, an’ now you smell like em.” he gripped the back of the stars neck and took a long kiss from him, allowing some of his venom to drip down into the spider’s mouth, knowing exactly how that would affect him...the same way it affected everyone...but damn, it made him so much more agreeable, and Valentino could definitely use some distraction, some recreation, some touch and be touched. If he felt like it, he might just decide to sleep under a small spider throw blanket.


	3. Let me off this Boat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not everything is well thought out...  
> But who cares!

Maybe watching a whore in his natural habitat had been a rash decision. 

Sunk into a plush but moldering parlor chair in his favorite suit of the cruise liner, Alastor scrubbed his eyes with a harsh palm. Trying to ignore his own static whine, ears ringing from the shrill pitch, he conceded that this had been...poorly thought out. 

No matter how Shadow averted his gaze, only blinking back on occasion to see if the coast was clear during quiet moments and taking in Angel's plastic, practiced smile as he worked, there was no blocking out the lewd sounds.

Alastor focused instead on business, with every fiber of his will, and judged how much Angel demanded paid for what looked to be a disgusting physical chore. Did he always pick up such low brow suitors? Did he prefer it? 

It didn't look like he was pleased so perhaps it was strategic. Or assigned? He had no idea...he'd never tried to pick up anyone he wasn't set to kill within the hour. 

By the last partner of the night Alastor had taken back to roaming just to walk off his visceral discomfort with the unscripted show playing behind his eyes. He loved the sea wing, no matter it was dilapidated and smelled of stale sea water and drying barnacles. Somewhere in him there was a shallow daydream of partaking in such a voyage, an impossibility in his life but everything he'd heard sounded fun!

Except the whole...trapped on a boat with thousands of meatbags above an endless watery grave. That part made a small panic rise in his chest he knew would leave him a manic, babbling mess if it happened.

But parties and endless liquor and buffet, music and nightlife without the hustle of city traffic? Fantastic! 

At least he could roam the sunken ship and fill the gaps himself, wondering and imagining as he let Angel...work. 

Valentino was almost a relief when he arrived. Surreptitiously Shadow glanced at the bills when they transferred hands, watching the pimp count them before tucking the cash away. Quick math from his observations of the evening made Alastor nauseous to imagine _how many_ suitors the spider had preyed on for a mere week's dues.

How could anyone live this way? How could he even _want_ such physical recreations after...Let's stop that thought there.

Shaking his head to stop his own vivid imagination from taking tangent the deer found himself leaned on ship railings, enjoying a night breeze as Shadow pinned himself safely into Angel's taller cast off and snuck behind the drugged spider Valentino led into the studio. 

The poor man could barely walk straight and sidled up to the moth lord in shameless ways. From how handsy Valentino was up to the elevator Alastor had no misconceptions about how the night would go.

Especially when they couldn't even get off the elevator before the moth was dosing Angel again and peeling his clothes off as if time was in short supply. Furred and indigo skin was revealed far too quickly for Alastor's tastes.

"Sweet Hell...no thank you." Grumbling he decided that was a scene he didn't need to see, feeling the long distance snicker of his shadow as it peeled free under orders to situate itself in a dark corner of the Overlord's front room to wait out the amorous pair. If Valentino cast a shrewd but smiling glance his way he paid it no attention. No business secrets or subterfuge tonight - and how could the pimp argue a watchful eye on his beloved Angel? 

Manifesting his cane Alastor rang down to the bar front, giving a short notice that Angel Dust would be missing curfew with his knowledge and dropped the call before Husk could ask him why or _how_ he knew that. 

This had been a rash decision indeed - and a night of listening to the mating habits of insects would undoubtedly keep him awake. Where was that bottle of rum?

Maybe if he was properly fried by morning he could resume his plan without too much static interference.


	4. Everybody Loves Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of bugs. And drugs. And hugs.

Angel knew Valentino well enough by now to be very familiar with the tricks that the pimp got up to. He knew all about the effects of the overlord’s venom, which face it, weren’t altogether unpleasant. Angel Dust had to admit, it was almost a mercy that the giant overlord dosed him more than once, given that he had been with enough johns today to break down any sane and rational being. He wasn’t sure he could have gone along with Valentino’s plans for the evening otherwise. Of course, once the toxins hit his system, he had no trouble at all allowing his lowered inhibitions to take over. Whatever Big Vee was in the mood for, Angel was all about it. 

True to his word, the overlord saw to it that Angel Dust had a nice hot shower as soon as they arrived. Of course, Valentino offered his helpful services to get his favorite boy all cleaned up before he took great pleasure in pressing him against the wall to soil him again. It only became more intense from there, the pimp toweling off the arachnid before picking him up and setting him astride his own hips , carrying him off to the bed, where things could be continued in a more comfortable setting. By the time the pimp was sated, Angel Dust was a veritable roadmap of welts, scratches, and bite marks. Of course, it wasn’t a big deal, they would have healed over by this time tomorrow, and with it being the end of the week, he could either find something to do that didn’t involve filming, surely he had magazine shots that could be retouched, editing away any of the evidence of the evenings frolics, or he might even let the spider have the weekend off for a change. He was well aware of just how many johns Angel had to have serviced to make up the amount he owed. He thought about it a bit longer as he let himself doze off in the early hours of the morning. 

Angel Dust found himself awake, but very disoriented. It took him a few moments to put the pieces together. He was in the studio penthouse, he was next to a lightly sleeping giant, and he felt like he had been run over by a delivery truck.   
He knew without even trying to find a clock or his phone that he had missed curfew. Hopefully the ladies would understand that he didn’t have a choice when it came to Big Vee. If his pimp wanted his company, then his pimp had his company. That was the way these things worked. He couldn’t remember coming up to the penthouse, or taking off his clothes, and he knew his undercoat was wet, but he didn’t remember getting wet, either, which meant that he had been dosed with a good amount of Vee’s venom. 

The fact that the overlord of the lust district had venom was one of the worst kept secrets in the pentagram. Everyone who had been anywhere near the overlord knew that he had a stout aphrodisiac in his venom that took effect immediately and completely. There was no one immune to its effect. There was a time that Angel would have been extremely upset with anyone drugging him to have their own good time at his expense, but with Vee, it was probably more of a blessing than a curse and the spider really didn’t mind. If Valentino could have what he wanted and Angel didn’t have to remember, didn’t have to really participate, then that was just fine. Damned shame it couldn’t remove the after effects. 

A few hours later found Valentino up and moving, and Angel's clothes tossed to him from the doorway with an abrupt “Hey, I ain’t payin ya ass ta sleep. Get yaself dressed.” he barked. “Got stuff for ya ta do.” Angel made haste in pulling his clothes back on, running a few hands through his hair to smooth things out since Val hadn’t combed it out for him last night. He finished getting dressed and walked into the living area, waiting for Valentino to tell him what the days plans were. He was too worried to ask, but he sure hoped he wouldn’t back in that same smelly and dingy cesspool he’d been confined to for the last couple of weeks. 

Valentino entered the room, as if on a cue. “Got some photos need ya ta shoot. After that ya free ta go until Monday mornin’ and I want ya skinny ass in here by no later than 730am, ya got that? 

“Yeah boss. I got it an’ I won’t let ya down, daddy.” He planted a customary kiss on the cheek of the giant pimp, who was busy scrolling through his phone at the moment. Angel departed, making for the photo shoot. At least it was easy work and he didn’t have to worry about doing anything special. The cameras loved him, and pictures were easy work. Arriving downstairs a few floors later, Angel was looking over the set directions for the shoot. Looked to be some kind of an erotic vampire themed insert for the October issue. Although Angel should have guessed, since it was almost mid September, but honestly he had lost track of time lately. 

“Ya gotta be kiddin’ me.” he huffed, tossing the sheet aside and leaning back in his chair, two sets of arms crossed over his abdomen. He saw the costumery hanging on the rack in the corner. As he had suspected, his “costume” was basically racy lingerie in a spiderweb pattern. Stockings, garter belts and suspenders combined with a bustier that would cinch his waist into an impossibly thin 18 inch diameter. He knew it wouldn’t be comfortable, but he knew it wouldn’t have to stay on for long. 

After changing into the costume, he inspected himself in the harsh lights of his dressing room mirror. He was busy admiring the marks that were still visible, even through his dense fur. He had more than a few dark lingering finger-sized bruises on his thighs and sides, a few deeper scratches on his arms and torso, and of course a few different full sets of identical teeth marks that were very visible along the ridge of where his neck met his shoulder. He absentmindedly ran a slender finger along the raised edge of the deepest set of bite marks, it was still fresh enough to sting, but he had long gotten past that. Angel Dust actually enjoyed the sensation of pushing on the wound, feeling first the surface sting, then the deeper bruise below the wound, that dull and intense deep pain that only a bruise can bring. Any other time, Val would have had make up in the dressing room to cover up the evidence, but say what you wanted about the pimp, he was very smart about business. He had managed to place Angel into a shoot where bite marks wouldn’t look out of place. It was a shoot about vampires. Devious fucker. 

As Angel Dust made his way to the set, the crew was almost ready for him. He could see his costar, ideally enough, a bat type demon that was honestly a few inches taller than Angel. As luck would have it, they only had to do a few different takes, and they had even fewer that needed to be reshot. Within a few hours, Angel was on his way out, and within a few minutes he had found himself blocks away from the Porn Studios building and on the edge of the lust district. 

Ordinarily, he would have raced his way back to the hotel, but he wasn’t in the mood to listen to Vaggie nagging at him about last night, and decided that if he had to look at Charlie’s big disappointed eyes, he would just as soon be three sheets in the wind while doing so. Besides, if he was tanked they'd have to let him stay the night, which gave him more time to find a place to crash until he could get his own place again. He ducked into the ‘Stumble Inn (and stumble out)’ for a few good drinks before making the remaining few blocks to the hotel. 

Making his way to the bar, he found an empty stool and ordered himself a Bikini Martini, one of the house specials, and pulling out his hellphone, he sent a text to Cherri to see if he might get some company up here and enjoy his evening for a while before he had to face reality again. Bad enough that he was stuck being nothing more than public property for eternity, a plaything for his boss, and wank fodder for anyone that could rub enough coin together to buy a picture. 

As far as he was concerned, reality was being a bit too much of a bitch and he just wanted to drink enough to not feel….anything.


	5. Selfish Charity is Still Kindness

Alastor figured the least he could do if he was awake anyway and needing a distraction was man the bar first thing in the morning. It also came with an excuse to kill a few pots of coffee and half a bottle of rum without anyone being too keen on his habits. 

Charlie rose bright and early, helping him with company as she detailed her day out shopping and advertising in the wake of a much more bleary Vagatha. Upkeeping his act of benevolence being barkeep he shared some strong caffeine with the moth and was too happy to send the gals on their way.

Distantly he took note when Shadow rose to follow after Angel, taking care not to analyze him too closely. No need to categorize their activities by wound - he'd heard more then he ever wanted to.

Aware of the schedule he was laughing to himself, curious how many of those photos would have a questionable -but never answered!- shadow caught on film when a buzz behind his eyes interrupted him. 

Turned to lean against the bar, thankfully alone besides the ever flitting Niffty, Alastor closed his eyes and tossed his voice across the phone waves. "Good Morning, Valentino! Calling for a morning request? I dont know how you pair for coffee but I like to jazz mine up a bit~"

"Oh knock off the shit Red…" A long sigh had the weight of smoke and Alastor grinned wider at that subtle irritation he heard. "Ya know why I'm callin' and I dunno what yer up to but if it involves Angie ya better own up." Valentino was struggling for a patient tone, obviously, but confusion and worry played there too.

"Oh it's no big matter, dear. Just a personal documentary on the life of one lead star! I promise you, I'm only feeding a curiosity. Nothing more." The deer shared with easy honesty although he couldn't help but add, "Angel wouldn't happen to be invited to business meetings, would he?"

"Oh _Fuck No!_ And if Vox heard ya joking he'd fucking glitch the city. Don't be cute 'bout that…" Even the moth had to chuckle though. They both knew Vox was paranoid of anything older then a smart phone radio but he'd never picked up on shadow play. "But if ya tagging Angel then Imma trust ya to be quiet on shit. So I'll keep Vox off his ass and you don't stir no pot, aight?"

The easy acceptance of his current project made Alastor pause, considering perhaps Valentino _liked_ the idea of an eye on his star. What else could it be? 

"Could I make a small request then, my darling love bug?" It was cheap but it worked, a fluttery groan on the line heralding Valentino enjoyed his playfulness. 

"Ye...yeah ya can. What?" 

"I'm not sure how long this little project of mine will take, but putting him into the laps of the dredges I saw last night near killed my appetite! How you can toss your favorite to such quarry I'll never know...but perhaps you could extend a bit of class for a while?" Entirely selfish on his part but surely it would only benefit Angel as well and humbling it to a request was certain to please the pimp Lord. 

"Ya want him off the streets? Why...just couldn't handle watching dirty seconds gargle cock?" Valentino was crass, straight out, and laughed at the staticked choke he heard before one strangled word.

"No."

"Aight, fine. But it'll cost ya. Yeah I make green filming his ass but that's investment. You wanna cover his day t'day payments then I'll pull him off duty for ya sweet little eye balls." It was sweet and mocking and Alastor groaned when he dropped the numbers this courtesy would cost the deer. It hung in the air for a solid minute, one demon waiting with a smug grin while the other scrubbed his eyes with his palm.

"Deal. You'll have his payments directly on Mondays until I'm through here." A static sigh didn't begin to cover his annoyance but he dropped the call with a screech he hoped made Valentino’s ears bleed at the laugh that followed.

"Deal, baby. You just bought yerself a whore!"

~~~~

Even a headache he couldn't shake didn't keep the moth from grinning so wide it hurt. Smoking as he tossed his feet up on his desk, he punched a scheduled text to Angel to be sent that evening so it didn't interrupt the film shoot. 

《Got a project that needs ya clean baby so you off trash duty for good. Paying out the ass so don't need no dues. Whatcha earn ya keep til I say. But keep it classy baby. No shit jobs. 😘😘》

Just because Alastor wanted Angel out of the alleys didn't mean a whore wasn't a whore. And Valentino was just fine letting the spider off leash to show the deer a thing or two about what people did for fun. 

This was going to be very fun or very explosive and he didn't know which made him laugh more. A little extortion didn't hurt neither.

~~~~

When the princess and parade checked back in with Alastor later and there was no indication from the sullen spider he intended to return Alastor had passed bar duty to Husk. Giving Charlie a vague message that Angel had gone out for a recuperative night after work and cleared it with him - he _was_ aware after all so it was only a slight falsehood - he assured them he'd stay about to greet Angel when he came home before he retired to the library to sit.

People watching wasn't just a skill or pastime, it was a survival tactic to Alastor. One he had perfected long before his death. Studying Angel as he tossed back drinks and slipped into the sassy face of a sulk that dared anyone to give him reason to unleash on them was as fascinating as it was sad.

Just more puzzle pieces to how Angel could present such happy enthusiasm when he was so obviously miserable. At least until his friend arrived.


	6. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel agrees to do a solid for his best bitch. As usual, it ends up being a bigger deal than he had expected.

Angel Dust was about halfway through his first drink when he felt the familiar buzz-buzz of his hellphone. Expecting a return message from Cherri, he scanned his messages to find it was a text from Big Vee. Cue an exaggerated eye roll as he opened the message, fully expecting it to be a summons from the boss to return to the studio for some stupid reason or another. The spider read the message in full three times to ensure that what he saw was what he thought he’d seen. He might have been convinced that it was true, but he made a mental note to look at it later when he hadn’t been drinking.

It wasn’t that Valentino _couldn’t_ pull him off street duty, but more a matter of _why_ he would. Angel found himself wondering exactly what he might have done to or for the pimp last night in that venom-filled haze of his own limited memories. It wasn’t that he would be embarrassed--he’d gotten over that hurdle decades ago--funny what being a whore could do for a sense of ego. There was nothing Angel couldn’t do for a customer, and precious little that he _wouldn’t_ do, for the right price, of course.

He signaled to the bartender, a waif of a woman that looked to be equal parts chameleon and human, that he was ready for another drink. He was in the mood for something with a little more bite to it, and since he didn’t have to worry about making dues this week, he opted for exactly what he wanted. He watched as the bartender set up a good sized drink of absinthe. The shit might be expensive, but he wanted the bitter of wormwood and the heavy punch the drink afforded. It was a luxury that Angel knew all too well that he couldn’t have often, so why not enjoy it now, when he could? It might be hell, but who says it has to all be suffering? Besides, Cherri still hadn’t answered. Who knew what she was up to? It might be a bit before he heard back from her and he knew that damned well. Slapping the money on the bar for his drink, Angel decided that he might like to have a bit more privacy and quiet as he headed for a corner booth in the back of the place.

He looked around the bar as he worked on his drink, enjoying the warm and the bitter of it. Luckily, it didn't look as if any of his regulars were in attendance, and that suited Angel just fine. He would rather not have to look at, listen to, or worst of all, have to smell any of them. He wondered absentmindedly if he might make hay while the sun was shining. If he was free to use his "free" time to turn a few tricks and make a nest egg, why the hell not? If he made a few extra bucks now, he could stockpile it to make up his dues when Val decided to boot his ass back out on the street again. He knew it was a matter of time. Sipping on his drink, he began to make a checklist of some contacts that he had worked for in the past and maybe he might just happen to run into them in his free time. He could even do it with Valentino's blessing. Whatever he had done to earn this favor, he wished he could remember because damn, he needed to do that a few more times. 

He had almost given up hope that Cherri was going to show or even acknowledge his text when Angel saw the little message icon show up alerting him to the incoming message. He opened it and had to grin. Maybe this day was going to end up alright after all. In his rush to get away from the studio and into a bar, Angel had forgotten just how early it had been. Being in a bar full of smoky haze, he hadn’t noticed that it wasn’t even twilight yet. Stepping outside into the early evening rays of a not yet set sun was a somewhat painful reminder. 

He didn’t really hurry down the street, opting to move a bit slower to keep from drawing too much attention to himself. Besides, he was going to need to be mindful of his surroundings if he was going to join his best bitch and give an assist. Strolling directly into the middle of a turf scuffle was ill advised, even for demons much stronger than Angel Dust. He had only traveled a few city blocks when he heard the distinctive noises of a firefight. This would be great! He got to hang out with his bestie and blow some shit up. He couldn’t think of a more fun way to blow off steam. He figured nobody at the hotel had to be any the wiser, and if they found out by some chance, well, he was already coming home well toasted, late, and after missing curfew last night. Wasn’t like one more thing was going to make or break him, now would it? He needed this. He deserved this. He had earned this!

Keeping himself low and making himself as small a target as possible, he slid around the edges of the skirmish until he was able to steal away from the relative safety behind a building to the debris, scattered like flotsam on a beach. It was there he was finally able to join up with his favorite partner in mischief, who high fived his raised hand and filled him in on what she knew. It took less than a minute for them to have a plan set between the two of them. Their opponent was a relative newbie in hell. He had some strengths, and he was loaded with a loud and belligerent mouth that was only rivaled in size by his ambition. His weapons appeared to consist of run of the mill guns which wouldn’t normally be much of a match for the cyclopean bombstress, but a lucky hit had at least temporarily taken one of her arms out of working order, and as bad luck would have it, he had hit her throwing arm. It didn’t take long for the duo to come up with a great plan, and honestly, one set of arms didn’t stand much of a chance against three and half sets, even if three sets were well on the way to intoxication.

The scuffle didn’t last long after that. Between Angel and Cherri it took about ten minutes for the standoff to come to a swift end, the fresh green challenger temporarily dead, the two miscreants wasted little time in stringing him up by his ankles and hanging him from a streetlight. He had a lot to learn and they decided to teach him one of the most important lessons... **don’t pick a fight you can’t win**.

Angel got Cherri gathered up and decided that he would just take her back to the hotel with him, and patch her up once they had arrived. She stayed over on their ‘girls night’ so it shouldn’t be too big a deal for her to sleep off the injury to her arm that was already beginning to try to heal up. One of Angel’s favorite things about being in hell was this durable body. Being shot was a nuisance, sure. It stung like no other, and if you didn’t dig out the bullet, you would have it there forever because the body would just close up around it. Didn’t have to worry about infection, well, unless it was a holy weapon, and that was a whole other animal entirely. Knowing that his bestie would not appreciate a new body modification, he planned to get her inside the hotel, make it up to his room, and remove the bullet before it scabbed and grew over.

If he had been on his own, he might have climbed the side of the building, which wasn’t terribly difficult as he was a spider, but he wasn’t sure that was the best plan, seeing as he was still fairly tipsy and using one set fewer arms than he normally would. Ah well. Front door it was. He took a deep breath and silently prayed to whatever might be listening that he was late enough that everyone else was already in bed and out of earshot.


End file.
